


Welcome Home

by Crab_Lad



Series: Crab's need for clone wars content [16]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Order 66, Reunions, idk how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:33:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23810869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crab_Lad/pseuds/Crab_Lad
Summary: Wolffe loses himself and turns to the one person he thinks will accept him
Relationships: Plo Koon & CC-3636 | Wolffe
Series: Crab's need for clone wars content [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1662106
Comments: 11
Kudos: 218





	Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

> :) For my vod'ika

One by One they had left him. 

First Rex, after a heated debate, had left both him and Gregor alone on the walker. Wolffe convinced himself that it had been fine, Rex could run off with his foolish rebellion anyway. Rex wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t stay and remain protected. Wolffe had joined to help with Lothal, solely for Ezra, purely to remind himself of what it felt like to fight alongside the Jedi. Like his  _ Buir _ . 

Lothal had taken Gregor from him. Gregor, who had remained with him on Seelos and had dealt with his outbursts, his panic attacks, his stress. Gregor, who had handled him for so long, was now gone. All he had wanted was to avoid losing the last remaining brothers he had, and, still, he failed them. 

So he had spent the weeks after the attack on Lothal, sitting in the dim walker, listening to the boom of it trudge across the sandy ground. Days blended together as his mental state grew worse and worse and worse and-

He was far too tired for tears, far too desolate to care. If he was alone, what was the point? And the weekly messages from Rex weren’t enough. All they did was ease his pain for a few moments. These were the times his mind would drift to his  _ Buir _ . He hadn’t seen Plo since Order 66, not since the Wolf Pack had fought the chip to every fiber of their being, making sure their  _ Buir _ wouldn’t die. Many vode had died that day. And many had died since. Wolffe had only been there enough to get Plo out. But he hadn’t been able to save the others. 

Now it was just him. Only Wolffe left from the Pack, and the only left in the walker. And he had lost himself. 

The silence got too much, too crushing with just him on an entire planet. He had to leave. 

He hijacked a ship from some smugglers who hid out on Seelos. They could have his walker. He had everything he needed with him in the small bag on his back. 

Wolffe flew into the atmosphere, leaving the orbit of the planet, finally leaving behind his own personal prison. He was lucky enough that the ship had a hyper-drive, so the first stop he made was a nearby Rebellion base. It was one of the smaller ones Rex had given him in case he had changed his mind. They sent him to another base who they said would have the information he needed.

It took a while, traveling from base to base to get the coordinates he needed, when finally, a month later, he finally got them. Wolffe felt himself annoyed with the lack of coordination of the Rebellion. They were lazy, sloppy, and far from careful. They didn’t have a strategic bone in their body, not like the Jedi of his time. 

He had nothing else to lose. If his  _ Buir  _ turned him away, he would not only deserve it, but understand it. It would be the final straw, but pain was better than doing nothing. It was better than wasting away on some long-forgotten planet where no one would bother with him. 

The coordinates brought him to a small forest planet named Tihte. Tall trees filled the rolling hills and mountains of the landscape, and he could see a settlement in the distance. Somehow, it was still untouched by the Empire, but he suspected it wouldn’t stay that way for long. The Empire always followed. No where was safe. 

Wolffe landed his ship a good distance away from the small log cabin he had seen from the sky, knowing without having to check that it was his  _ Buir _ ’s. Plo had always talked about retiring to a nice planet after the war, bringing the  _ vode  _ with him. 

Once the ship settled on the ground, he just… sat back, staring into the dark woods. Would Plo still want him? Plo deserved better, a better…  _ ad _ ... One who hadn’t cowered away on a planet, slowly losing his mind, instead of reaching out, trying to find his  _ Buir _ after everything. Plo had been so confused the moment his ship had crashed, pulled out of it by many hands, urged to run, run far away and never come back. 

He felt anger rise in him, aimed at himself. What was he doing here? He didn’t deserve to come crawling back after nearly two decades. Not only that, but- why? Was he here in a poor excuse to reconcile their past dream? That their  _ Buir _ would retire with them, all of them, here on this planet and they could be happy? Disgust rolled in along with it. Was he really so naïve to believe they could fix it? That he was enough? That he wasn’t the last one? 

No. He had made it this far. He had traveled for so long, he wouldn’t give up and turn back now. That would make him even more of a coward. 

Wolffe took the one bag he brought, left his helmet, and stepped out onto the mossy ground. It squelched under his foot, and the air was still humid from rain. The trees were dripping water as he passed under them, still dripping down to wet his hair. It wasn’t enough to completely drench him, but the drops pierced into him like small tendrils of cold. The air was chilly, seeping into the bare skin and broken blacks. The only spot that remained relatively warm was anything covered by armour. He could hear the soft chirps and rustling of different creatures, along with the cawing of birds. The sun was dim behind a cloud, casting everything in a low light. 

So he walked. Heading straight towards where he saw the cabin. It was eerie, walking through the forest without seeing a single soul. It only built up the tension inside of him, it hummed to the beat of his heart, anticipation curling in his stomach. He pushed forward, one foot in front of the other, step by step, towards his goal. Towards his  _ Buir _ . 

Then he finally saw two eyes observing him in the distance, they glinted intelligently, knowing and seeing. Their brown hue was familiar, and he could always see the humor in them. Something about them… 

The creature jumped out, white fur shining in the small beams of sunlight that snuck through the clouds. The wolf was fairly large, large enough that if it attacked, Wolffe knew in his old age he wouldn’t be able to fend off. It walked up, sniffing at Wolffe. Wolffe could only glare back, as if daring the wolf to attack. He had places to be. There was no way he was letting this mutt stop him. 

It seemed as if it was going to push him down, when the long-ago familiar rasping voice, muffled by a breather, said, “Stand down.”

Wolffe hadn’t even noticed when the creature, Sinker (and wow, wasn’t that a punch to the gut) had gone rigid in defense. It turned back to look at the figure walking out into the small clearing they were in, a sad, guilty expression on its face. 

For a whole moment, Wolffe stopped breathing as he took in the sigh of his  _ Buir _ . He looked so similar to all those years ago, just… more tired. There was one thing he noticed, was how at peace Plo seemed, far from a war. The Jedi had always carried himself so stiffly, but here he was relaxed, content. 

The sight of a happier Plo almost brought tears to his eyes, but his  _ Buir  _ brightening and letting out an excited “ _ ad’ika _ !” was what finally brought him over the edge.

Tears flooded from his eyes as he knelt down in front of Plo, unable to hold in his emotions. He felt a four fingered hand settle in his white hair, brushing oh so softly. Kneeling down, Plo placed his other hand under Wolffe’s chin to raise his head. Wolffe met his  _ Buir _ ’s eyes through his mask. 

“It is good to see you again, Wolffe.” 

He couldn’t see it, and he wasn’t sure how a Kel Dor’s mouth worked, but he was certain that Plo Koon was smiling at him. For a moment, he felt frozen, unable to move or breathe as his  _ Buir  _ shifted closer and pulled him into a hug. 

Wolffe had spent almost 20 years now, scared and frightened that the Jedi would hate him, turn him away. It had held him back from trying to reach out, trying to see his  _ Buir _ . And he hadn’t expected to be met with open arms like this when or if he ever did go looking. He had to admit; it was nice to be welcomed and loved already. Wolffe wasn’t sure how to react, whether to hug back or to just stay back. 

“You’ve grown old,  _ ad’ika _ ,” Plo mused, pulling back to look at him better. His cold, rough palms reached up to cup Wolffe’s face, smoothing over the edges of his beard. 

It really was an understatement, Wolffe was sure he was older than his  _ Buir _ at this point, physically anyway. Plo had barely aged, but maybe that was the Kel Dor physiology. He looked just the same as ever, that face that held wisdom and serenity. And despite the chilly air, despite his  _ Buir _ ’s cold skin, something warm, like  _ home _ radiated from Plo. He was home, wasn’t he? He had finally found Plo on the place they had always talked about moving to after the war. 

“I’m sorry,  _ Buir _ ,” Wolffe mumbled, unable to look away. He couldn’t, not now, not after 17 years without him. “I’m sorry for failing you.” 

Something in the Kel Dor’s expression softened, smoothing out the creases in his face, “Sorry?  _ Ad’ika  _ you need not apologize. Not for anything. You’ve never failed me, not in all the time I have known you.” 

Wolffe sniffled, trying to wipe away the tears that had fallen so childishly. He nodded, he wasn’t a  _ di’kut  _ like Cody. If his  _ Jetti _ said something, it was the truth. No matter what, Wolffe would always believe in his  _ Buir _ ’s words. Plo had never lied to them. 

He was distracted by the soft pitter patter of paws walking up to them and turned to see another wolf with beige fur and two red stripes down its head. It was walking up to them with the white one from before, carefully and quietly. 

Plo hummed, turning to the two, warmly greeting, “Boost, Sinker.” 

Wolffe sucked in a breath and looked to his  _ Buir _ questioningly. All he got in response was a small shake of a head that indicated not now, but later. 

Which was fine. Maybe now wasn’t the time for big talks, maybe now they could just sit and… be together again.  _ Ad  _ and  _ Buir _ . The wolves plodded around them, curling up against their backs to provide a soft cushion for them to lean against. 

Plo pulled Wolffe close, running one of his clawed hands through Wolffe’s white, thinning hair, while the other held him to Plo’s chest. Leaning into it, Wolffe let his eyes fall closed and soak in the presence of his  _ Buir  _ after so long. 

“I have missed you,” Plo finally said, his words low and soft. There was an openness in them that wasn’t there during the war, especially not when they were around the other Jedi. “I have missed all of you. I’m happy you found me. It has just been me and the wolves out here for a while. The townspeople aren’t too… fond of offworlders.” 

Wolffe couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “But you wouldn’t hurt them!” It turned into a growl as he started, a hint of anger, “They shouldn’t have shut you out, they shoul-”

“ _ Wolffe _ . As much as I adore your protectiveness over me,” Plo mused, cutting Wolffe off, “but I would prefer it if we didn’t focus on that at the moment. I haven’t seen you and I want to know how you’ve been.” 

Deflating, Wolffe let out a sigh and turned back into his  _ Buir _ ’s chest. “I’ve been okay,” he started, “No- actually. I haven’t been okay. Rex joined the Rebellion, Gregor… died. I was the last one left. I didn’t know what else to do, where else to go so-”

Plo waited for Wolffe to continue. He was patient like that, always waited instead of finishing the thought. Wolffe had asked him about it once, to which he had responded that he wanted them to work it out themselves, to give into their own free thought. 

“I was lost. And I missed you,  _ Buir _ .” 

Warm arms pulled him closer, holding him closer and closer until they were snuggled tightly together, surrounded by the two wolves named after his dead  _ vode _ . 

“You’re home now,  _ ner’ad’ika _ .” 

The simple word, one Plo had struggled but was determined to learn, in the language Plo had become slightly fluent in for his soldiers, warmed something in Wolffe’s chest. It finally melted the cold ice that had been there. It finally felt like he had returned home. 


End file.
